


Rose in the valley, Blooming so sweet

by athoroughlybakedpotato (acommontater)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acommontater/pseuds/athoroughlybakedpotato
Summary: There have always been whispers about Viktor Nikiforov- that he was naturally blessed with talent, that he'd been cursed in exchange, that he'd done this or that terrible or wonderful thing in his rise to fame.When asked, he laughs, and never actually answers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some Russian fairytales. Title is a quote from H.C. Anderson's The Snow Queen.

Viktor likes to visit his grandmother’s house.

It’s far away from the city in the quiet peace of the woods just outside a little town. His grandmother loops his scarf around his neck and tucks his black hair under his hat before he goes out to play in the afternoon.

 

“Don’t wander too far into the woods, Vitrushka.” She cautions. “Make sure you can hear my voice when I call.”

 

Viktor promises not to go far and sets off to explore the woods around the house. Sometime later he hears his grandmother calling.

 

“Vitya, have you wandered far?”

 

“No, grandmother!” he calls back.

 

He explores the woods and the gnarled trees until it is time for supper and the sun is hidden behind the long branches of the trees.

His days go on like this as the evenings get crisper outside. Viktor is young and finds dragons to slay and witches to outsmart in the woods. He always stays where he can hear his grandmother call.

 

“Vitya, have you wandered far?” she always calls.

 

“No, grandmother!” he always replies.

 

One day while he is exploring he finds a frozen pond in the woods. It is beautiful and glitters in the afternoon sun. Viktor is excited because he brought his skates from home, but has had nowhere to use them.

 

“Vitya, have you wandered far?” his grandmothers voice is faint.

 

“No, grandmother!” he shouts back.

 

It is nearly time for dinner, so Viktor gives the pond one last longing look and returns to his grandmother’s house. He tells her excitedly about the pond and she grows very solemn.

 

“Vitya, you must promise me you will not skate on that pond. It belongs to Morozko so you must not go there again.”

 

Viktor nods, but thinks that he is very strong and very brave and he longs to skate.

He leaves the next afternoon to play with his skates hidden in his bag and finds his way back to the frozen pond. Viktor puts his skates on and leaves his bag on the shore.

He does quiet, studious loops around the pond, stepping through basic sequences like his teacher at home had shown him, feeling like his heart will beat out of his chest with happiness at being on ice again. He doesn’t notice the man on the pond for a few minutes. Viktor pauses for a moment, narrows his eyes at the stranger, and then continues skating. He is small and fast, there is no way the man could catch him.

 

“Are you cold, little one?” the man’s voice is as smooth and silvery as the swish of the skates beneath his feet.

 

Viktor does not look at him, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes.

 

“No, I’m fine.”

 

He spins and the pine trees around the pond blur together in a whirl of green and white.  The wind whips through the open air, stinging his cheeks.

 

“Aren’t you cold, little one?” The man asks again, closer now, his voice like the shush of snow in the night.

 

Viktor ignores him again, determinedly spotting himself for another set of rotations.

 

“No, I’m quite warm.” He replies.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Viktor can see that the man has silvery white hair. He shoots across the pond, quick as a wink. He debates using the speed for a jump, like he’s seen the other older skaters do, but decides against it. He shouldn’t risk breaking an ankle on a whim. His fingers are going numb through his thick gloves and his ears ache with the cold as his teeth began to chatter.

 

“Aren’t you cold, little one?” The man’s voice is right next to him, clear like the ringing of icicles in the wind.

 

“No, I’m as warm as if I were by the fire.” Viktor grits out through his numbed lips.

 

The cold wind vanishes as abruptly as it appears.

 

Viktor glances down at the man’s feet and realizes that he has not only no hat on his head, but no skates on his feet. A warning, his grandmother’s voice, rings in the back of his head, but he can’t figure out why. The man grins at him and his smile is like a crack in the ice that Viktor is always mindful to look out for.

 

“What is your heart’s desire?” The man asks. Viktor stares at him.

 

“I…” He thinks about home and all the things that he is not supposed to know because he is a child. “I just want to skate.”

 

“You are very good at skating.” The man says. “I can make you the best skater in the world if that is what you want.”

 

Viktor is not as stupid as his teachers at home think he is.

 

“What do you want from me?”

 

“Do you want that? To be the best skater ever?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You must never love anything more than the ice, it must be your only true dedication. If your heart strays from the ice so will your talents.”

 

Viktor thinks about it- he already loves the ice more than anything else.

 

“Okay.” He doesn’t flinch, feels no regret.

 

The man plucks the hat off his small head and presses a kiss to the crown of his head before handing him his hat.

 

“Very well, you, Viktor Nikiforov, will be the best skater the world has ever seen. The ice will always respond to your touch.”

 

He blinks and the man is gone.

 

He trudges back to his grandmother’s house and when he takes his hat off she drops the soup ladle in horror.

 

“Vitrushka, what have you done?” she cries.

 

He looks in the small mirror in the hall and sees that his once ordinary but deep brown hair has been turned a vibrant silvery grey, just like the man’s had been.

 

“You were forbidden to go to the pond! Why can you not listen?”

 

It’s not until later that night as he hangs up his skates that he sees the blades have been turned to gold.

 

The ice always responds to his touch and Viktor Nikiforav becomes the best skater in the world. He moves like magic, some say as they watch, like he can’t help but be on the ice. When asked how he began skating, he always answers that he found his calling on a frozen pond near his grandmother’s house in the country.

He earns a reputation for his heart being as cold as the ice he lives on, for all his kindness.

(The first practice after an evening spent dancing with a drunk man named Katsuki Yuuri is the first time Viktor falls on the ice since he was a child.)


End file.
